The Eye of Oberon
by Heretical Tarp
Summary: Oberon is a regular in the Tower. So are a bunch of other people, and they aren't always working together. Action/adventure/drama/poorly-disguised-ethnic-con flict ensues.
1. Wheaties

Forenote: This is a Tower of God fanfic. That's a manwha, go check it out, seriously.

This story (style: original characters, action/drama), as is, is 7 chapters long. It's not finished, but it is over. I'm reposting it at reader request, but personally I was feeling the limits of my skill. There is a rather low probability of future updates.

I do hope you enjoy it, though.

* * *

Tall grass, as far as the eye can see. _Aah,_ thought Oberon. _Chosen._

Oberon had been deemed worthy to climb the Tower. Finally.

He was in his street clothes, a black shirt and cargo pants. Given his moments-ago occupation as a street vendor, his pockets were full of all sorts of random objects, and some money. _I hope the sisters will be okay. A century or two, and I'll be back, no sweat. _

In the outer sections of the 94th Floor, not very many people were chosen at all. So there would probably be some kindness from the neighbors in celebration of his selection. Also, his family had money in place in case he was suddenly chosen.

Reaching up to his shoulder, Oberon grasped the sword hilt protruding there. Drawing it, he held it before him. The blade was long and glowed faintly blue, a unique property of the materials it had been made from.

Like many great weapons, it bore a name. This sword was Durendal, and in the hands of a courageous man, it would never break nor bend. At least, that's what Oberon's father had said.

He had also told Oberon to keep it with him at all times, good advice. Wearing Durendal all the time was the only way to make sure Oberon would have it if he was chosen, plus it helped to scare off would-be thugs. Of which there were many, on Floor 94.

He felt a reverence for the weapon; it was a gift from his father. Who had gotten it from _his_ father, who had gotten it from_ his_ father, Ai Roman, who had been a Ranker. In a family such as the Ai, Rankers were few and far between; they were certainly not one of the Great Families.

Speakers resounded throughout the fields, bringing Oberon back into focus.

"Everyone! Regulars who have entered the Tower, pay attention. Welcome to the 2nd Floor, also known as the Floor of Test! We shall begin with a simple test first. Listen carefully."

A grin split his face. He had a guess as to what the first test would involve.

"There are currently… 400 Regulars in the testing area. When this number has been reduced to 200, those Regulars remaining will have passed. Begin."

_Well that was abrupt._ Oberon looked around carefully, but he didn't see anyone yet, so he decided to just walk against the wind. Maybe that would prevent someone from smelling him coming, if there were any people like that here.

After maybe a minute, some distant screams suddenly rose in the background. They came from every direction, so but the closest one seemed to be coming from the left.

Oberon took off at a sprint, which for him meant that he was running faster than almost anyone he'd ever met who hadn't climbed the Tower at least a little.

As Oberon approached, he slowed down to get a better look. His foot suddenly hit something solid, and he looked down at the corpse beneath him. It was a short man with black hair, and his skull appeared to have been crushed. By hand.

Oberon's face may have paled slightly, but not very much.

Ahead of him, clearly visible in an open space in the middle of the grasses, two figures faced each other.

The first was a woman, with a red coat and short red hair, standing in some kind of martial stance, palms raised towards her opponent. She was probably the skullcrusher. Mentally, Oberon marked her a bit further up the threat scale.

Across the open space, like a scene from a horrible Old-West+Fantasy crossover, was her opponent.

Covered in scales, it stood on four legs. Above the waist, it had a body like a man crossed with a lizard, and below the waist, it was like a horse crossed with a dragon. It's head was probably twice as high as the girl's._ Dractaur, 102__nd__ Floor, thank you geography lessons._

It leveled a mighty spear at the redhead, and began to circle slowly around. She kept pace, sidestepping, and neither seemed to have notice Oberon yet. He decided not to wait for this fight to explode. _Gung-ho, that's the Ai way of things._

"I can't tell if you're planning to fight, or just dance each other into submission. Show a little ferocity."

The woman reacted first, adjusting her stance to face both foes. The dractaur, on the other hand, spoke. In a voice _exactly_ what you would expect a half-dragon half-horse all-powerhouse monster to sound like, it said calmly, "I'd rather not fight." Okay, so not exactly what you might expect.

"We don't need to kill each other, but this genocidal maniac female is determined to slaughter everyone she sees." He seemed pretty reasonable for a monster.

Oberon turned to the girl, and gave her his best smile, the one he used on passing ladies in the hopes that they'd be interested in more than just a trinket.

"Why don't we all just relax, and lower our weapons?" He sheathed Durendal; it would take less than a second to draw it again if he needed to, so no problem. Addressing the girl, "I'm Ai Oberon; what's your name?"

A second later the dractaur lifted his spear, although he kept scowling in a way that made Oberon despair his chances of appeasing the redhead.

After a few moments of stony silence, the girl grumbled, "Quana. Of the Blitz family." Her face seemed to darken as she mentioned her family name.

Tactless, the dractaur spoke. "Like the famous Quant? He's on many training tools in my city. You must be lucky, to be rel—"

"He's an idiot. Shut up."

Quana's face was beginning to match her hair in color. Oberon could hear the rage and embarrassment in her voice, and decided to just stay uninvolved. The dractaur kept going.

"He's a hero! A shining example of strength and technique! Surely you must have met him, if you're in his family…?"

Her fists were shaking. "He is my father. I've met him. Shut up."

The dractaur took the hint this time and calmed down, but Oberon was stunned.

_Her _father_ is a ranker!? He probably trained her by hand! I have to—_

From behind him, the rustling of grass revealed the approach of several Regulars, trying to hide but failing. Oberon drew Durendal and kept an eye on his back.

Oberon settled into something of a fighting stance, waiting for the newcomers to reveal themselves. To his right, Quana simply kept her place, eyeing the trail of rustling grass suspiciously. The dractaur approached directly to his side, its monstrous claws thumping heavily on the ground.

"If they mean to fight, I think that I would rather side with you. Someone who does not fight needlessly."

Oberon had to tilt his head back to look at it. "I'm flattered. Not to be rude, but what's your name?"

"I am called Talimmar." He set the butt of his spear on the ground, leaning on it. It sunk a few inches further once he put his weight on it. "Should we allow them to approach so closely?"

Oberon called out in the direction of the approaching disturbance, "We can see you, so just stand up or we'll set the whole field on fire."

The rustling stopped, and after some harsh whispering, a single figure stood up in the field. It was tall and narrow, with pale skin and a long nose like a beak. At its full height, it was about even with Talimmar, although the dractaur probably outweighed it by a factor of twenty.

The thin creature addressed them cautiously, like a lawyer. "You could not possibly have that ability."

Oberon gestured towards Quana, who gave him a sharp look. "See her? She's a Blitz. Born fire user. Now show yourselves."

The tall one crouched back down, and seemed to be conferring with several others. After another moment, it rose back up. It pointed a bony finger toward Oberon. "Liar. Lay down your weapons and we will spare you."

Oberon frowned. He was about to retort, but Talimmar beat him to it. "If you wanted to spare us, you would go around us. We will not surrender." It leveled its spear towards the creature. "Why do intend to kill us?"

At this, another form rose from the shelter of the grass. A man with dark skin, wearing a few mismatched plates of metal as a makeshift armor. In his hand, he held a perfectly serviceable sword, made from some sword of sharp crystal.

"Don't you understand? We've got to kill you in order to end the test! Do you think you can just make allies? I've already put together a team, and now we should just kill anyone who gets in our way!"

Oberon's frown deepened into a scowl. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up with nervous excitement, and the blood rushing to his limbs. "Just kill anyone who gets in the way, huh?" He shifted his stance, and lined Durendal up directly with the speaker. "If you insist." Oberon tried to hide the trembling of his hand.

At that, the man shouted and rushed forward, and several other figures rose from the grass as well. Up rose a huge, thick-chested man who was hefting a large rock as a weapon. _How did that guy hide in this grass?! _A seemingly young girl started whirling a sling, preparing to fire. Finally, an ugly goblin creature rushed out, as short as the girl, with a wooden club covered in spikes.

Oberon thought through the strategy in an instant. "Quana, get the girl! Talimmar, get the giant and the tall guy. Don't let them surround us."

Five-on-three was terrible odds, but his allies both seemed capable of ending a fight with a single hit, and Oberon was no slouch himself. It really depended on the skill of the enemy swordsman. The last thing he needed was to be pelted with bone-breaking stones, so hopefully Quana would be fast enough to get the girl.

The man was faster than his goblin teammate, so he reached Oberon first. He attacked directly, bringing his sword down at Oberon's head.

Oberon raised Durendal in a block, wielding it with both hands. The blow still drove him back a few inches, and the swordsman pressed the attack. Swinging the crystal blade around to his side, the man furiously stabbed toward Oberon's ribs.

Oberon managed to parry, setting the attacker off balance and on the wrong foot. He sent his sword whistling toward the man's neck, but the target lurched forward unexpectedly, and Durendal bounced off a thick plate of armor.

That move brought the man's armored shoulder crashing into Oberon's chest, knocking them both onto the ground. Durendal fell away from his hand. The two grappled briefly, but Oberon saw the goblin had arrived and was readying its club.

Oberon swung around so that he was above the swordsman, and slammed his head down upon his opponent. He stood up and spun, bringing his fist crashing into the goblin's jaw before it could use its weapon. It stumbled back, stunned momentarily. Oberon took the moment to snatch his sword back up from the ground.

Glancing around, Oberon could see Talimmar locking its fists with the giant. For a moment, the giant seemed to be the stronger, but the dractaur raised its front claws and quickly ripped the man's belly to shreds. The giant fell to the ground, bleeding heavily and clutching its stomach, and the tall creature was nowhere to be found.

On the other side, Quana was sprinting back towards the center of the fight, having dispatched the slinger. She slammed the goblin on the side of the head, shattering its skull and putting it out of the fight, dead.

The dark-skinned swordsman climbed to his feet. He was panting heavily, but he raised his sword. As he looked at his three opponents all still standing and largely unharmed, his jaw seemed to set. "Well? Are you going to do this?"

Quana approached him as though to kill him to death. Talimmar managed to yell out, "Don't kill him, if you can!" She simply dodged around his tired defense, struck him twice in the neck. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

Talimmar walked back over. Oberon couldn't help but notice that its claws were coated in blood, and be glad that it was on his side.

It whispered under its voice, "I have some ideas about what the next test is, and we should make sure we have at least a few others around us." Oberon nodded, taking its word for it.

Quana joined the group, actually willing to stand close to the others. "We've probably killed four or five between the three of us, now. If everyone else is fighting like this then the test _has_ to be ending soon."

Oberon just shrugged, and sat down, and thought about what he could have done better in the fight. "Quana, you clearly know some level of martial arts."

She fingered her red coat. "I'm only at the eighth circle right now, but I should be able to advance to the ninth in a few floors. Then I'll get a black stripe here, see?" She pointed to a series of stripes and chevrons on her right sleeve.

"I need you to teach me that. Can you?"

"What, right now!?"

Oberon motioned for her to relax. "No, after we pass."

She looked doubtful, and Talimmar cut in. "Maybe we should just pass this test first, alright?"

Several more minutes flowed by, and Oberon became increasingly worried they had done something wrong. After some time, the dark-skinned man stirred and sat up.

He looked at them, and rubbed his neck. They looked at him, and remained silent.

Much to Oberon's relief, the speakers once again blared.

"Attention all Regulars, the test is over. Cease all fighting immediately." As one, the three stood up, as did the swordsman.

"Let's see if I was right," said Talimmar.

The speakers continued, "The next test will begin immediately. Please form teams of three. Thirty seconds from now, all teams in contact with each other will be transported to the next stage."

"Nope, only three needed. But close."

They glanced at each other, and Oberon was glad that he had been so fortunate as to have exactly the right number of teammates. "Let's all join hands then." He pulled his hand back as Talimmar reached to grab it. "Watch out with the claws, there." Talimmar carefully enclosed Oberon's hand in his monstrous palm. Quana joined in as well.

By this time, the remaining seconds were being broadcasted. _3... 2… 1…_

A glow surrounded them, and Oberon felt himself becoming lighter. Just as he felt he was about to become completely weightless, a brown hand grasped his arm.

"I'm coming too."

Foolish, to let his guard down!

The teleportation didn't seem to notice the additional passenger, now that it had already started. Oberon barely had time to react in surprise, before the glow overtook his vision completely and he lost all sense of space.


	2. Traps & Doors

The light faded out, and Oberon was standing with his teammates inside a large room. The floor was some kind of blue stone, and light shone down through the glass ceiling far overhead.

He shook the trespasser's hand off of his arm, and stepped back from him.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

The man looked down for a moment, and whispered harshly. "I have to be here! I can't just fail like that!" He pulled Oberon closer. "Look, you still passed, right? And isn't having a four-person team still better?"

Talimmar put his hand around the top of the dark man's skull, and lifted him off the ground. Tiny drops of blood ran down from where its claws pierced the man's skin. It pulled his face right next to its teeth.

"Cheater." The word _dripped_ contempt.

"N- No! I'll leave as soon as I can! Just keep me with you for now." He seemed to regain some of his seriousness. "Please."

Oberon ran his hand through his hair. _We might get in trouble… But if we don't then we'll be ridiculously strong as a team… _He let out his breath. _And I'm not going to force someone to fail for nothing. _

Quana interrupted his thoughts. "We can't let him stay with us, Oberon! We'll get thrown out!"

Oberon motioned for her to relax. "Put him down, Talimmar. If it becomes a problem, we'll tell the administrator we misheard the number. And it will be their own fault for bringing a group of four up."

Talimmar grudgingly lowered the man to the ground.

He dusted himself off, and extended his hand to Oberon first. "My name is Zolbang Gester. 18th Floor." Oberon shook it, feeling more and more at ease about the situation.

When he offered his hand to Quana, rather than shaking hers, he took it and made as if to kiss it.

She slapped him onto the floor. "Creep." Gester stood back up, rubbing his face. He seemed to be carefully not looking at Talimmar.

Around the whole group of Regulars in the room, there were numerous other sets of three. _Maybe around 100 passed? They must have had a hard time forming the right groups…_

In the room around them, Oberon quickly looked for the Regulars that seemed abnormal. There were a few very large creatures, a thing that looked like a skeleton with an axe, and one was just a sort of orange ooze.

There were two little children riding on one man's shoulder, and a short girl with a wrench nearly her own size. Across the room, there stood a man with a shield and large sword that looked like a knight. _Did he just happen to have that with him when he was selected!?_

Oberon's group of four was attracting attention from some of the nearby groups. One man in particular seemed to be paying close attention. He was tall and carried an axe on his belt, along with an oversized butcher knife. He looked muscular, but that didn't always translate to strength in the Tower.

Just when it seemed like he was about to come over, the murmuring was cut off and everyone looked towards the door.

"I am Dekaten Ju, Administrator of this session. Congratulations on passing the first test of the 2nd Floor."

The murmuring rose again in volume, and Oberon caught the word "Ranker" several times. He was rather impressed himself. This was his first time meeting an actual Ranker in the flesh. And… _We passed. I passed!_

Oberon settled down before the administrator continued. Dekaten looked like he had a face carved out of a mountain, and the very air around him seemed to keep still under the power of his sheer authority.

"I'm rather new around here, so I hope you all will be rather agreeable?"

A wave of nods across the group.

Dekaten smiled. "Good. Now, there's exactly one rule I need you to remember: no fighting outside of tests."

He motioned with his hand towards the far door. "Pretty soon you will be taking the Director's test, so please line up in front of that door. The assistants will answer any questions you may have."

Quana started walking toward the door first. "Let's go. I want to be first."

"Uh, of course you do." Oberon grinned nevertheless; he felt like he was on top of the Tower.

Their position put them close to the door in the first place, and ultimately they were the first in line. Dekaten didn't seem to notice or care about the extra member, but Gester tried to stay hidden in the middle of the group as much as possible anyway.

One of the assistants, a woman wearing a yellow-and-black striped shirt that left her looking rather like a bumblebee, walked over to them.

With a wide fake smile, she asked, "Are you ready now to begin the next test?"

They glanced at each other. Everyone nodded to Oberon, who replied, "Yeah."

She nodded. "Then, the next test will begin once you walk through the door after this door."

Beyond the first door was a spacious passageway. Talimmar didn't even have to stoop.

As he reached for the second door, Oberon could feel his heart pounding with excitement. _Is it a fight? Survive ten seconds against the Director… No, Rankers wouldn't kill Regulars by hand. Not on Floor 2._

The first door closed shut behind them. The light level in the hallway dimmed. "Is it a fear test?" Quana asked.

Gester replied hastily, "Can't be. That'd be dumb. And we're not scared." _Right_…

Oberon assumed a fighting stance, holding Durendal leveled in front of him. "Weapons ready, everyone." Talimmar leveled his spear over Oberon's shoulder, and Gester lined up next to him. Quana just stood there, but whatever.

With his left hand, Oberon slowly pushed open the door, ready for traps. The room beyond was dark. He couldn't see any of the walls or the ceiling. In the room were many red doors, floating a few inches off the ground.

In front of the doors, kneeling on the ground, was a man in blue and yellow robes. He had long yellow hair, and if it were not for the shape of his face, Oberon might not have been able to tell his gender.

The man spoke. "I am Yu-Han Sung, Director of this floor. I am in charge of all the tests, but this special test is one I run myself. It is very simple."

He gestured behind him. "There are twelve doors here. You have ten minutes to find the 'true' door, and open it. You may quit at any time."

_That's not so bad._

"However, if you open an incorrect door, you will die."

"What!?" All the regulars exclaimed in unison.

Quana approached the man. "How will we know which door it is?"

Yu-Han Sung smiled, sipped some coffee, and replied, "There will be no more clues given. Now, if y—" He frowned. "Why are there four of you?"

Oberon stepped forward. "Ah, well, there was a bit of a mix up with the selection…?"

The director smacked his forehead. "I think that I am going to kill all of my administrators except Lero-ro." _Who? _"How many mix-ups can they make!? At least it's not a slaughter like Quant's…"

Yu-Han Sung adjusted himself. "Fine. Whatever. This is just going to be one of those days." He sipped his coffee again.

"The test starts now, you have ten minutes, pick a door, go." He started muttering to himself, and Oberon caught the words "need more coffee."

The group looked at each other.

"Um…"

"Maybe…"

"Are they all the same?"

"Gester, keep an eye on your Pocket. Tell us every minute that passes." A tiny sphere, a Pocket, normally invisible, was brought into sight with a word by Gester. He started the timer function, and a clock appeared, counting up.

Oberon walked around to the side of the doors. There was nothing behind them, they were just floating doors. "Do these even go anywhere…?"

"One minute," said Gester. "Why don't we just pick one at random?"

Talimmar turned to him and growled, "That would give us a one-in-twelve chance. Don't be stupid."

"Maybe it's meant to test our luck!" When no one responded, he rapidly seemed to lose faith in his suggestion, and slouched. Or maybe he was just tired; those armor plates on his shoulders looked heavy.

Oberon rejoined the group. A suspicion was forming in his head. "Director Yu-Han, is it allowed for administrators to lie about test requirements?" Quana gave a small gasp at the idea.

He looked surprised for a moment. Then he frowned. "Of course." _That doesn't mean he's lying now. And if he were trying to trick us he would've said he couldn't lie._

But he watched the director. As he raised his cup of coffee again, there was, in the corner of his mouth, the slightest smile. Just a hardly-noticeable upturning of the lips.

It was enough. "We just have to open any door. This test is meant to weed out those who would quit rather than risking their lives to climb." That smile twitched. _Got him, didn't I?_

The others considered this for a moment. Slowly, Gester nodded. "That sounds better than a test of luck. Silly to even consider such a thing, sorry."

Quana and Talimmar assented moments later. Oberon walked to the left-most door, and pulled it open wide. A white light shone through.

"You pass." Yu-Han Sung turned to face Oberon. "Very impressive, only three minutes. And you did it without the hint that nearly every other team will be getting. But you were wrong about one thing."

Oberon leaned in close. "What?"

The director had a cruel smile now. "You had to choose any door… in five minutes. Or you would have died." He gave a little wave and a smile. "Goodbye now."


	3. Xenobiology

The room outside of the Director's test was much plainer than the entrance hall. Where that had wide windows and a tiled pattern in the floor, this room was little more than a white box. There were sterile metal benches, and a few uninteresting doors scattered around. Light came from a few glowing spots on the ceiling.

It was some twenty minutes or so before the next team entered. The first to step in was a tall man with brown hair, covered in plate armor that was mostly shiny, but dented and dirty in a few places. He had a wide sword hanging from his belt, a shield strapped to his back, and a helmet under one arm.

Following after him was a woman wearing a gray hoodie, with long pink hair spilling out of the hood. She had her hands in her pockets and was humming quietly. The last member of the group to emerge was a short girl. She was carrying a great monkey wrench that was probably as long as her arm, and her black t-shirt had a big silver triangle on the front. On top of her black hair, she wore a pair of odd-looking goggles.

Gester motioned them to come over. "You passed too, huh? We were starting to worry that no one else would make it."

The knight-looking guy frowned. "There were three teams after you, but they all died." He sat down next on the bench next to Gester. "We could all hear the screams. I can't believe that they actually killed them."

The girl, who looked like a teenager, although the way people age in the Tower she could have been two hundred, walked up to Talimmar and started looking at its scales. It sort of shuffled around, but couldn't get away.

Meanwhile the pink-haired woman sat down on the bench next to Oberon. For some reason, Quana was looking unusually serious.

The knight offered his hand to Gester. "I'm Galaver."

"Gester."

"Why are there four of you?"

Oberon answered hastily from around the others. "There was a mistake with the teleportation, but it's no big deal now." Galaver nodded.

Quana leaned around Gester to look at the knight. "That's nice armor you have on, Galaver. Did you wear that around all the time?"

Galaver laughed and shook his head. "Haha, no, I was just in the middle of a training exercise. I guess Headon has at least that much courtesy."

At this point the woman cut in. "Not really. Did you see the woman back there in a bath towel? And I think she borrowed it from someone else!"

After the laughter subsided, Oberon completed the introductions for his group. Galaver did the same. "That's Coral," he said, and the woman waved. Indicating the girl, he introduced her as Neomi.

Neomi jumped up and waved her hand in front of Talimmar to get his attention. "Talimmar-nim… can I ride on your back?"

Talimmar turned to face her directly. He had to look down almost completely. "No! I am not a horse." Neomi hung her head down.

"Relax, Talimmar, she probably didn't know."

Coral leaned down toward the wrench carrier. "You can build your own horse as a Ranker in the gongbang workshop, right Neomi?"

She brightened quickly at the thought, before sitting on the ground next to Talimmar.

Quana inquired, "So you want to join the gongbang?"

Neomi motioned to her wrench. "Yeah. And I'm going to make great armor for Galaver and my own thirteen-month series of weapons!"

Oberon's eyes lit up with interest and he leaned forwards. "You know a lot about weapons, huh? What do you think of this?" He handed her Durendal.

Neomi took it and turned it over in her hands. The bluish glow made her pale hands seem eerie. After a moment, she pulled her goggles over her eyes, and adjusted the lenses. She began to gape slightly.

"How did you get this!? It's, like, a B grade weapon!" Her fingers ran over it like spiders. "Wait… does this…" Neomi frantically lifted it up above her head to get a better look.

"Okay, that's enough. You clearly know more about these things than most." He snatched it back and resheathed it. "You'll be the next Macseth, master of the Workshop." He made a grand sweeping motion with his arm.

She beamed. "Thanks."

Gester stretched his arms. "Ah, that test was brutal. How did you guys figure it out?"

Coral shook her head. "We didn't. Galaver just couldn't stand to be in that room any longer, so he rushed out the first door."

Their heads turned to look at him. "Why not?"

"The three teams between you and us were all killed by the Director. We could hear them scream, but you probably couldn't in here."

"Yeah, so?"

He did a circular motion with his hand. "And there are millions of Regulars that come through this floor. He can't even be doing all of those tests himself. And whether he does them all or not, Yu Han-Sung has probably killed millions of Regulars by hand. And half of the Regulars were already killed in the first test! He could just fail them, but he kills them!"

He set his helmet on the ground and set his head in his hands. "If I get to be a Ranker, I'm going to take over this floor, behead Yu Han-Sung, and make it so that killing gets Regulars disqualified, not advanced."

There was silence as the others processed this. Finally Quana offered, "That's quite an unusual view, Galaver." In truth, it made Oberon feel somewhat uneasy by virtue of pure unorthodoxy. _That might just be heresy. But… are these deaths necessary?_ He looked to his side. _Gester thought so._

Galaver picked up on the discomfort he was causing, so he tried to shift the topic. "So, Gester, yeah? What will you do as a Ranker?"

Gester blushed slightly. "I think… I think that I'll, uh…" He glanced around him without looking directly at anyone. "I'll marry the most beautiful woman in the Tower."

There was stunned silence for a moment, and then Talimmar snorted derisively. Gester cleverly retorted, "Hey!"

Oberon tried to stay casual. "Not to crush your hopes and dreams, buddy, but the most beautiful woman in the Tower is Yeon Hana. And she hates men."

Gester's face grew long in despair. He was grasping wildly for a source of hope. "If I can reach the Top, then I'm sure it will be possible."

"You're crazy," Neomi chimed in. "Coral, tell them about what you want."

Coral glanced at the floor for a moment. "I want to meet Enryu," she said, as gasps came from Oberon's team, "so that he can teach me how to create life with Shinsoo."

"But he's an Irregular! And no one has seen him in centuries!" Gester was shocked.

"And even if you met him, there's no guarantee you could learn it. It's probably just a myth anyway," Quana reminded her.

"I know, I just think that… I would like that."

Oberon nudged Quana. "Be nice." He turned to Coral, and said, "So you're a wave controller then?"

Coral nodded. "I mostly work with ice-type skills, and I can almost control two rooms of Shinsoo at once!"

Oberon noticed that her eyes were pink, matching her hair. Matching like that tended to be really common among Tower residents, for some reason.

"I have got just the thing." He rummaged among the many pockets of his pants, jingling with items no longer for sale. He held up a pair of pink earrings shaped like wings. "These are supposed to enhance the wearer's agility in dense Shinsoo. Mostly I think they would enhance your beauty."

She blushed, but kept smiling. "You're just giving them to me? Don't you need it?"

Oberon nodded. "I can't sell them anymore. And I'm from the 94th Floor, Coral. The shinsoo up there makes this on Floor 2 look like nothing." He waved his arm to demonstrate, and heard someone go _humph_ behind him.

Coral pocketed the gift. "Thanks, Oberon."

Oberon snapped his fingers. "Ah, I almost forgot." Turning to Quana, he pulled out a red bracelet. "It's a pair of ruby dragons wrapped around it each other. I think it should nicely match your whole… theme."

Quana seemed surprised, and jerkily put on the bracelet. "Uh… Thanks, Oberon. I don't actually… wear a lot of jewelry so…" She blushed, and it matched her hair.

The door from the Director's test opened again. Into the room came the heavily muscled man from before, still with his axe and butcher knife in his belt. He was followed by a slender lab-coat-wearing man carrying a long knife, and a very pale faceless human-shaped thing that made the hair on the back of Oberon's neck rise. It looked like someone took a blurry picture of a human and tried to build one out of rotting clay.

They stopped for a moment, and the big one eyed them. He motioned his arm wordlessly, and the three began to walk past the group. As they drew close to Talimmar, he stopped and spit at the dractaur.

In a low voice that threatened, he spoke, "I am Kalgakev Jamoor. Do you remember my family, monster?"

Talimmar brought its jaws close to the man's head and opened them. Its fangs dripped saliva and it released a growl that Oberon could feel resound in his bones. After a moment, it withdrew. "I do not. But I will happily recount your death to them if you insist."

"Your people _killed_ them. You bastards! You trash!" Jamoor put his finger to Talimmar's chest. "I'll kill you before these tests are done, monster. Mark my words." He turned and walked away.

"You want to kick his ass, Talimmar?" inquired Oberon.

Talimmar shook his head. "We cannot fight between tests, and I would avoid it if we can. But if he initiates it, and in a test…" It looked thoughtful. "Yes, then I will rip him apart."

The two teams had a very hard time restarting the conversation after that. Eventually they split apart, still waiting for the Director's test to be finished.


	4. Regular Biology

In the end, a total of fourteen other teams passed the Door test. There room was sparsely populated, and it seemed like it could have held many, many more than this. Once everyone had gathered in the waiting room, the administrator Dekaten had told them to take the rest of the day to rest, and that the tests would resume on the morrow.

An assistant led Oberon to his room, which was quite a bit nicer than he had expected. It was rather like a fancy hotel room, white floor and walls broken only by a wide window on the opposite side, and various metal furniture.

Outside, it was twilight, and he couldn't see very well through the window due to the bright light inside the room. Flicking the switch on the wall beside him, the room darkened to the point that colors were barely visible.

Oberon stepped up to the window, and looked clearly through it, out at the Second Floor.

The room was not at ground level. He turned his head down, and down, until finally he caught sight of land beneath him that was not obscured by mist or distance. The forest below him, seeming to stretch endlessly, crashed into an ocean at the very far edge of his vision.

He saw the trees, and he could see their individual trunks, but his depth perception was telling him that he was miles above the ground. Oberon's mind reeled from trying to imagine it. Visualizing himself beside a root that soared above him, and the tree itself higher and broader than any building he had ever seen in this Tower, out of sight in the clouds.

He stumbled back from the window, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He lay back, but Durendal pressed uncomfortably into his back. Oberon stood and unstrapped its harness from his shoulders. He set the sword and its sheath on the table against the wall.

It hadn't really gotten to him during the excitement of the tests, but his body was sore. In particular, his ribs ached from getting rammed by Gester, and his arms were telling him it was time for sleeping. _Turns out actual swordfighting is a lot harder than just swinging a sword around alone._

He lay on the bed and groaned. _Just another skill to train sometime. Focus now on passing tomorrow._ Oberon shut his eyes for a moment.

Suddenly, he felt bright light burning against his eyelids, and bolted upright. Standing motionless in the doorway, looking surprised, was Quana.

"Oh, um, I came over to celebrate passing the tests, but if you're asleep I'll go, bye."

"What else would I be doing with all the lights off!" shouted Oberon.

She took a step back and started to close the door, but he waved for her to stop. "No, come on in. What time is it?" He shook his head to clear the fluff. "Nevermind." Oberon looked at his pocket, and realized that he had only been sleeping for perhaps an hour and a half.

Quana produced a bottle form somewhere, and poured him a glass. The liquid looked like gold. As she handed him his drink, Oberon noticed a certain ruby bracelet on her hand. She toasted, "To passing," and they both drank. She sat down and refilled her glass.

She addressed him first. "It occurred to me that you never mentioned why you're climbing the Tower. Even though we were having that nice discussion with everybody."

Oberon shrugged. "It's not a secret, Quana. But I'm not sure how everyone would react if I told them."

"React to what?"

"Let me tell you about my great grandfather, okay? This story starts with him." Oberon set his glass to his side on the bed. "His name was Ai Roman. Actually, he's the one who got a special dispensation to allow my family to have children like we do, since most residents aren't allowed to have children."

"He was a High Ranker. Number 352. This all happened over a thousand years ago, remember. Joochun was the Ruler at that time. And he was pushing heavily for progress to the next Floor."

Quana interrupted him. "What do you mean, the next Floor? He'd already reached the Top, he was a Ranker."

"You're the daughter of a Ranker and you don't even know." Oberon ran a hand through his black hair. "You know how, when King Zahard was first conquering the Tower, he made it all the way to Floor 134, and instituted the Regular testing system?"

She nodded.

Oberon shook his head. "I think this is something that Rankers try to hide, to preserve order and keep Regulars climbing, but Floor 134 isn't the Top. Not really."

Now Quana shook her head, incredulous. "No way. How? Are you saying that every Ranker in the Tower is part of a conspiracy?"

Staying silent for a moment, Oberon considered how best to explain. "Let me continue my story. I'll tell you what Roman told Coran. That is, my grandfather."

"It happened like this. Grandpa Coran was still young, just running his shop one day, and Roman walked in. It was the first time grandfather had seen him in decades, and he just walked in the front door without warning.

"Coran had a huge amount of respect for Roman, obviously. And damn right, too; he was one of the best and strongest Rankers in the Tower, and he was every inch a hero. They say he never once used trickery to pass any test."

"Anyway, Coran asks where he's been, why he came back, how was he, but Roman simple puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him to be quiet."

"Roman told Coran that Joochun was looking for High Rankers to challenge the 135th Floor, and that he was going. He gave my grandfather Durendal," Oberon motioned to his sword on the table, "and told him to always wield it righteously. Mostly grandpa used it to righteously fend off starving dogs. Roman said that he had a different weapon that needed to be used instead. Durendal has been passed down in my family since that day, so now I have it."

"Roman left that day. Coran heard that he took the 135th Test, and never returned. The Ranking Office declared that he was dead."

Quana looked down at the floor. "I'm so sorry."

"No! Don't be. Past the Twentieth Floor, if you fail a test, you can try again later. And the Guardian of the 135th Floor sent everyone who failed back to the 134th."

Oberon leaned toward Quana, and whispered conspiratorially, "But my great-grandfather did not fail. He's up there, past 135, and I'm going to climb up there too!"

Quana sat back in her chair, stunned. "If that's true, then why can't any of the other high Rankers pass? Urek failed, but he's the strongest active Ranker in the entire Tower!"

"You remember the door test? That had nothing to do with strength; it was about risking your life to keep climbing. Are you sure that all the immortals on 134, who convince themselves they have reached the Top and have all the power and wealth and success in the world, would give that up? Or would they quit, and go back down to think it over?"

"My grandfather was always that Roman always was the most driven, unstoppable man in the Tower. I think a man with a spirit like that, to never give up no matter what… I think that's what the 135th Guardian wants."

"But really, Gester thought that test might have actually been a test of luck. He was wrong here, but it isn't actually out of the question for a hostile Guardian as the one on 135. If not that, there could be any number of tests that don't depend on power."

"The point is, he didn't come back down, and every other High Ranker who's taken that test has come back down. He passed."

Quana still looked skeptical. "And you want to join him, huh? That's your mission?"

Oberon turned his head to look out the window at the darkness of night. "I don't actually care very much about finding him. Look out that window, Quana. What do you see?"

She looked for a moment, and replied, "I see our reflection."

Oberon smiled. "Earlier, when I looked down, I saw a vast forest. Each of those trees was as big as the testing center on the 94th Floor, which I though was the hugest thing that could possible ever exist, before I was chosen."

"Those trees are _really old_. And the things that live in those trees are weird, powerful, sometimes horrifying and sometimes beautiful. And the creatures of this Tower only get more varied and interesting the higher you go. I want to experience the magical world of this Tower, and to do that have to break 135."

She giggled. "That's a little sentimental for a hero, don't you think?"

Oberon smiled. "It's important to appreciate beautiful things."

Quana blushed, and he saw that her glass was empty. "Do you want more?" He offered her the bottle he'd been holding.

She took it and poured herself another. "Thanks." Next, she picked up Durendal from the table. "This sword really means a lot to you. And it's powerful too, if Neomi was right." She pointed a finger at him. "Keep it safe."

Oberon hesitated to respond, but decided that if he could trust her with all of his family's history, he could trust her with knowledge of the sword.

"It's actually an ignition weapon. That's why I took it back from Neomi before she could notice. Sometimes I can feel its power under my hand, but it won't ignite for me."

"Why not?"

"Probably because it worked so long with Roman, a lowly Regular like me just isn't up to its standards. Speaking of which, if there's time tomorrow, I'd like to do some training. I get tired using Durendal for too long, because it's so heavy for its type. Do your martial arts have anything for that?"

Quana nodded, grinning. "It's called Hapkido. It isn't about strength, but it still matters, so strength training is the first thing you do. After meditation exercises, but we can skip those with you."

"Then, if there isn't a test or anything tomorrow, we should start."

She stood up. Her glass was empty again. "We can start now, if you want."

Mirroring her by reflex, Oberon stood as well, but he was still confused. "What?"

"For example," said Quana, "this is a rarely-used technique for disabling an opponent." She closed the step or two between them, closed her arms around him suddenly, and kissed him.

Oberon was surprised, but not so surprised that he failed to get over his shock after the first second. When it ended, he gasped for air. "Yeah, let's train now. Okay."


	5. Public Education

The next day, all of the now-rested Regulars were gathered into an auditorium. Oberon sat high in the back, where the metal seats were rusty and the floor was covered in dust. Rings of benches went entirely around the room, focused on a raised circular platform in the center. Bright stage lights glared overhead.

From his position, Oberon could see the remaining 42 competitors below him, ranging from one row down all the way to those sitting directly next to the stage. That row was populated with the most eager and competitive individuals. He identified Jamoor, and Galaver the knight.

He also spotted Quana among that group. She had rushed out when she woke up, and he hadn't tried to track her down. Oberon yawned, and rubbed his face. That would sort itself out in time. Meanwhile, in order to be able to relax, he sat up here.

After a few minutes, administrator Dekaten stepped out onto the platform, trailed by a pair of yellow lighthouses. They were large cubes, made from the same material as pockets, and they floated just as easily. However, they were much more powerful than simple pockets; Oberon didn't know exactly what lighthouses could do, but there had to be a reason that even some Rankers specialized in using them.

Dekaten got everyone's attention with a simple cough, and all heads turned to him as one.

"Regulars, we will now continue with the testing. This next test is something called a Position Test." The two giant cubes rose above the administrator, and he proceeded with his lecture.

"As those of you who have met Rankers before may know, climbing Regulars are divided into several different positions. There are many more, but at the moment we'll only use five. Not everyone can do everything, so specializing allows you to focus on a single set of skills."

"Because we at the 2nd Floor want to do everything we can to prepare you for the rest of the Tower, the other administrators and I have assigned each of you a position, and you will be trained in that position for a month."

"After that month, the best Regulars of each position will advance to the final test of this Floor. Please listen carefully for your assignment."

With that, the two lighthouses flickered and a list of names appeared on each.

Dekaten continued, "First, for those who fight at the front of the battle and constitute most of a team's power, the position is Fisherman. The following Regulars have been assigned this position…"

As Dekaten read through the list aloud, Oberon didn't recognize the first few names. However, the fourth on the list was Gester, and he also heard Jamoor called.

On the list projected on the lighthouse, the words "Best Seed" sat next to Jamoor's name. Oberon could guess what that meant, although it was seriously surprising.

The last name on the list for Fisherman was Blitz Quana.

Oberon mentally congratulated her. _Zahard help the other fishermen, if you're in that group... but Jamoor is best seed over you? The administrators must not have been watching very closely. _

On the stage, Dekaten continued into the position of "Spear Bearer," which for some reason didn't actually require spears, but whatever. Talimmar and the knight Galaver were both selected for that position.

Oberon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. There was murmuring among the Regulars below him, and he couldn't relax at all. As Dekaten moved on to "Lightbearer," the grumbling became more urgent.

The lights were too bright and getting in his eyes, so he covered them with his hand. At the top of the list for Lightbearer, as best seed, was Blackford Neomi.

A pair of the Regulars just below Oberon were whispering between themselves. "How come I wasn't picked as best seed, man? She's just a kid!" The other seemed just as incensed. "Am I supposed to be weaker because I wasn't chosen as a fisherman? Let's make him change it."

Before that disgruntled Regular could stand, another stood up, several rows below. He was wearing a biker jacket, and he had a hairy beard all over his face. "Do these positions even mean anything!? I'm the strongest Regular in here, why aren't I a fisherman? Huh?" he shouted.

Dekaten held up his hand, and complete silence fell over the room. Oberon was pretty sure it was darker now that it was a moment ago.

The speaker almost took a step back, but actually managed to stand his ground.

Dekaten spoke in a very obviously controlled and even voice. "Please come down to the stage, and I will address your complaint."

The Regular stepped down, and over the front edge of the seats onto the stage. He walked up, trembling, to Dekaten Ju.

Dekaten looked down at the man. "It is an enormous headache, even if there are no complaints. However, I will give you a chance. If you can get off this stage, you will be listed in whatever position you want. Don't say this is unfair; there are definitely a few girls in one of the other groups who could do this easily."

It took the biker a moment to put it together, but when he did he started scrambling backwards toward the edge of the stage.

Dekaten held out his hand.

A blazing orange light filled the air next to him. Out of that light, a shape started to form, as though Dekaten was pulling something out of it. _Ah… an arms inventory. I've never seen one before. So it can turn invisible like a pocket; that makes sense._

The orange light took shape into an enormous hammer. It was all gleaming metal, steel blue just a shade darker than Durendal. It was _freaking huge, _the head of the hammer alone was more than Oberon could probably lift.

Dekaten began to swing it above his head. Oberon could feel power gathering around it, like an enormous thunderbolt preparing to strike with the fury of a god.

In his deep voice, from that face like a mountain, the administrator intoned. "To those who would disrupt the smooth workings of this administration…"

The biker was just crying at this point.

"SHALL BE BANNED!" And Dekaten brought the hammer down. There was a thunderous crack, and the floor rumbled, and many of those in the front row stumbled backwards out of their seats.

When the hammer was raised, there was nothing underneath._ Vap… Vaporized!?_

The administrator surveyed the crowd. "I trust no one else has any complaints?" No one moved a muscle, and Oberon could hear a few pins dropping somewhere.

Dekaten stowed his hammer in another blaze of light, and continued with the lists once his inventory had faded from sight. He looked thoughtful. "Next, there are Scouts, gathering information for the lightbearers and misleading opponents."

At this point, there were only two positions left, so Oberon was pretty much expecting it when he saw his name on the list. What he was not expecting, at all, was the "best seed" written next to it. _That's… I'm okay with that._

And that is how, ten minutes later, Oberon found himself in the Scout position meeting room. _It's called a meeting room but really it's a classroom, who do these people think they're kidding?_ Oberon had done his share of being educated, and although it hadn't exactly been a problem for him it wasn't something he was eager to do again. But, if it would help him climb the Tower…

The Scout room was wide and open, with a high ceiling and bright lights in the walls that gave everything a happy, yellow cast. Oberon fit right in, as he was still feeling the glow of being chosen as best seed.

After all the Regulars had filed in and sat down, the Ranker who would be serving as their instructor introduced himself.

In the front of the room, before a clean whiteboard, stood a short man, with dark skin and red hair. He was wearing a white… canvas jacket?

"Greetings, Regulars! Hahaha, congratulations on being chosen as Scouts! You may have heard of me. My name is Blitz Quant, and I will be your instructor, haha!"

Two thoughts struck Oberon at the same time.

_ I see why Quana is ashamed of him _and...

_Don't get noticed don't get noticed don't get noticed don't get—_

Quant continued, in his annoying loud voice. "Now that you know who I am, why don't you introduce ourselves?!" He walked up the rows to Oberon, and smiled widely. "You should start, best seed."

_Just play it cool._ "I'm Ai Oberon."

Quant leaned his elbows on the table in front of Oberon. He looked like he was in a daydream. "You know, my daughter is also best seed. As a fisherman! The family is very proud of her. You haven't met, by chance?"

Oberon's mouth was dry. "Ah-haha, yes, we have met. She seems nice." _Is he insane? Maybe he just assumed she was picked… No, he would've been there!_

Quant smiled and nodded, his red hair bobbing up and down. His eyes were shut so that they looked like thin lines on his face.

"I talked to her before the position assignments today. It's unusual, but there aren't actually any rules against it." Quant leaned closer to Oberon, still smiling widely. _Too_ _widely_. "She was wearing a lovely bracelet, and she mentioned a nice guy." His face looked like it was going to crack. "Was that you?"

_Spirits, save me. _"Yes sir, that was me. Haha, don't you think that it's nice—"

"STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!" he screamed. Some of the lights shattered, raining little pieces of glass onto the assembled Regulars.

Quant's hair ignited into a pillar of orange flame, roaring up to the ceiling. He maintained his smile, but the voice that came through might have been possessed by demons. "We're going to have a test a bit early today."

Trailing flame and smoke, he paced back down to the front of the room. Cracks appeared in floor beneath him.

"Regulars, whoever passes this test will get… a free photo of me! Autographed!" He seemed surprised by the lack of applause. Quant coughed, and his hair guttered out. "Plus one thousand points for the test." Now everyone leaned in, except Oberon, who was rapidly trying to determine if he could fit through the vents.

"This test is called 'Seed Hunt'. All of you," Quant pointed to everyone except Oberon, "are to incapacitate him," he pointed to Oberon, "by any means necessary. Whoever gets the last hit wins."

Twenty confused eyes turned to Oberon.

Quant called his pocket into visibility, and started a timer. "Start." Quant's face stayed happy, but his eyes tried to burn Oberon into ash. Oberon could literally see tiny fires inside them. _Literally_.

He backed up and waved his arms. "You're insane!" Quant just smiled. Oberon looked around frantically at the other Regulars. "Now, let's not be so hasty. I'm sure there's another test we could—hey!"

He dodged to his side as a fist whistled through the space his head had just occupied.

Oberon reached over his shoulder for Durendal, but as his hand closed around the hilt, Quant shouted from the front of the room, "No lethal force!"

_Son of an eel._ He released the sword. Oberon jumped onto the table before him, out of reach of the nearest attackers. He tried really, really hard to avoid this sort of brawl, and it wasn't anything he had any experience with.

The door was close, but a girl with a black dress and a blindfold on was in his way. "Wait, how can you be a scout if you can't see?" he paused and asked.

The girl only tilted her head and smiled.

Oberon ran and tried to leap over her head, but she snatched his ankle mid-jump, her hand moving fast enough to be only a blur. All she did then was hold on, and Oberon slammed into the ground, barely managing to get his hands in the way. _That blindfold isn't obstructing her vision; maybe it's—_ He lost that train of thought when she kicked him in the ribs.

Somewhere in the background, Quant laughed.

He coughed, all the air had been slammed out of his lungs. The girl raised her foot, presumably to finish the job. Oberon raised his hands and shouted, "If you do that, you'll turn into a fish!"

The girl frowned for a moment. "What?"

Oberon took the opportunity to roll over, shift his weight back onto his shoulders, and kick his heel upwards into her chin. She cried out and fell.

But now the other scouts were closing in. Not all of them; Oberon noticed a few still sitting, or barely standing, hesitating to join. But there were all too many already in the fight.

A big guy with a square jaw stood over Oberon and raised his fist. There was no joy in his face, for which Oberon was thankful. He spoke quickly, but seriously. "I hope this doesn't hurt." _No no no no no no! _Oberon tried to block, but the man was too strong.

He drove his fist down onto Oberon's forehead, slamming it into the concrete below.

Oberon didn't remember it hurting, but then again, he didn't remember anything after that, either.


	6. Naptime

Oberon was on edge. This was the first real test among those of the Scout position, two weeks into the training month. Quant was actually pretty good, once you got past his… eccentricities. Or maybe he was actually pretty weak for a Ranker; compared to what Oberon remembered of Roman, he was definitely a pushover.

But he was more than good enough to train 2nd-Floor Regulars. He'd shown the Scouts how to make a contract for shinsoo, that miraculous substance; you had to meet the Guardian of the floor, who would determine if you were 'worthy.' All it had done was stare at him for a moment, and it agreed. Even though Oberon was now permitted to control shinsoo on this floor, he hadn't had any success. _It's probably the sort of skill that comes with time._

The second thing Oberon had gotten was an "arms inventory." As far as he could tell, it worked just like a pocket, floating alongside the user invisibly, storing his weapons until called upon. It was rather convenient to not have to carry Durendal with him everywhere all the time. After that, scout training had consisted mainly of practice running and dodging. Appropriate.

Right now, Oberon was sitting upon the enormous branch of a tree, looking down at an open field. The sun was bright, but he was concealed in the shade of the canopy of leaves above him. His forehead was coated with sweat; climbing up here had been no easy task.

Below, three of his fellow scouts fanned out into the clearing. They had been divided into two teams, five each. The fifth member of Oberon's team was also concealed somewhere up here in the trees.

That scout, Sago, was a narrow guy who looked like he might have had a little avian ancestry; his hair was a crown of golden feathers, tufts sticking out behind his ears and on the backs of his hands. The color didn't seem to be preventing him from hiding well, though.

He leaned back against the cool trunk of the tree. The test was straightforward: capture the flag. The flags, a big red one for Oberon's team, could be hidden anywhere in the whole forest, and the game wouldn't end until one team had recovered the other's flag.

Quant, laughing to himself, had commented that if they took longer than the rest of the month, they'd all fail.

The team had decided to bury the flag beneath the roots of one huge tree, and hope that the other team hadn't done the same. If worst came to worst, they would have to force one of the other team's members to reveal their flag's location. Now, three from the Red Team were moving out, while Oberon and Sago guarded the flag. They'd stay in communication through their pockets, so the guards could call for backup. _But if this works, I'll just be able to sit out and relax. _Durendal thrummed with its usual energy beside him, invisible in his inventory.

Coral was thinking as hard as she could. Not the normal type of hard thinking; she wasn't trying to come up with a clever answer, or outwit an opponent. She was controlling shinsoo, exerting her will onto the substance of the Tower, with every ounce of concentration she could muster. Two weeks into the Wave Controller training, they were having their first proper test.

It was almost laughably simple. Each controller candidate had to use shinsoo to hit a target as hard as possible. Just a strength test, like something from a carnival. And of course Coral was going first.

Coral gathered shinsoo before her, as much as she could handle, and the air in front of her started to glow with a soft pink light. She could change the color if she wanted to, but right now she couldn't spare the effort.

The other three competitors (for the wave controller position often has an unusually low number of Regulars) were all staring at her, brows furrowed. Except one, who didn't really possess a brow to furrow at all, given that it was… an octopus. It was awfully skilled for a creature with no skeleton. _Maybe living in an ocean of the stuff gave it an advantage?_

The instructor also looked on intently. The scores would be based not only on the power of the shinsoo used, but also the instructor's assessment. Yuga, who seriously looked like an enormous _ball of rice _with asmile _drawn _on, was her instructor. _Maybe wave controller just means 'the position where all the weirdoes go.'_

Coral returned her focus to the target. She had gathered as much shinsoo as she could, and she willed it to coalesce into a dense sphere. As the shinsoo compressed, it shifted from its normal, gaseous form into the fluid state that it occupied at high pressures. Coral resisted the urge to think about the equations; half of the wave controller training concerned the physics of shinsoo (laws which were just as fluid and malleable as the substance itself) and the rest was practical application.

The fist-sized ball of dense shinsoo was requiring all of her concentration now, and it glowed with a violent purple light. She accelerated it with all her strength into the target; a red disk which Yuga had suspended in the air. As it struck, she heard a sharp _tong!_ and her score appeared on the board: 2430. Altogether, the test probably only took a few seconds, but it felt much longer.

Coral walked back to her seat and slouched down, relieved. It was really a calm atmosphere for such a big achievement, but she was pretty sure that 2430 was her best score ever. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead and onto her grey hoodie.

Yuga regarded her with his creepy painted-on smile.

Talimmar raised his spear to block. The other spear bearer, a wizened old man with a white beard and white horns curling like a rams on his head, struck down with his staff, the force of the blow jarring Talimmar's arms, but failing to break through his defense. Talimmar backed away.

Halfway done with the training, and they were having their first proper test. Out of the twelve spear bearer candidates, they had been divided into four teams of three. Each team's objective was to capture a pillar in the center of the arena. Whichever team had a member on top of the column for one minute would win the test.

Problem was, the whole team wouldn't be able to defend on top of the pillar at once; they'd have to support it at range. It was ideal for the position, as spear bearers were usually also capable of using ranged attacks.

Talimmar's four clawed feet and tail gave him stable footing on the sands, but he could see that some of the humans were slipping. He stepped around the horned man, sweeping the butt of his great spear around with mighty arms. The man set his feet, and blocked the spear with his staff, but the result was just that he was knocked backward several meters instead of having his ribs broken. The man sprawled on the ground, groaning.

Talimmar grinned, teeth showing from his long jaw. _With this strength, no one will bar my way._

With this strength, also, Talimmar didn't need to fear fights so much. In the beginning he wanted to avoid fighting for fear that he would be injured unnecessarily, but he was beginning to see that the average strength of the other Regulars was well below what he could handle. _There are still a few to watch out for, though…_

By chance, Talimmar wound up on the same team as Galaver. They had agreed that the knight would take the pillar, because he lacked any skills at range. Now, he was sprinting toward the unoccupied column through the opening Talimmar had made. Hanging back at the edge of the area was Alan, a rather average-looking fellow carrying a simple red spear. Alan wasn't very skilled overall, but he could throw reasonably well.

A faint humming noise caught Talimmar's attention. He turned his head, and saw a gray blur spinning, whizzing towards him. Talimmar barely managed to swing his spear into a blocking position. Quivering, stuck in the wooden haft of the polearm, was a cleaver, like something from a butcher's backroom.

Talimmar shook out the cleaver and looked up, seeing a figure stalking calmly towards him. It was Eraphim Loncar, dressed in his customary white lab coat. This newcomer was one of the ones from Jamoor's original team. _Should've known he'd be a problem. Pesky human._

Loncar smiled, a bare hint of madness in his eyes, and raised another cleaver.

Jamoor stood at the top of a mountain. The view before him was incredible, but he couldn't afford to appreciate it; the first proper test for the Fisherman position was in progress.

Oh, it _could_ have been something simple. But no, nothing simple for the fishermen! _Or at least, that's what the instructor thinks._ She had explained the rules plainly enough: the nine fisherman would be dividing into three teams and engaging in a practice combat. When one of Jamoor's team members knocked an enemy out of the practice area, the team would gain a point. For every team member that was knocked out of the test, however, they would lose a point.

_It would have been alright, if she'd told anyone what team they were on._

Now, there were nine fisherman candidates standing at the peak of this mountain, and it was biting cold, and nobody knew whom to fight. Just to make their lives miserable, no doubt, there was ice and snow covering the mountaintop.

One of the others, Gester was his name, was deep in concentration. Jamoor remembered him; he'd been with the lizard. Once again, Jamoor made an effort of will to resist hating the man just for his association. _He probably doesn't know what they did._ _He'll understand if I can explain… if I can just explain…_

The cold must have been getting to him, because he shivered and covered his bare arms. _In retrospect, a sleeveless shirt wasn't a very forethoughtful idea._ Jamoor tried to calm himself, and made an effort of will, reaching out to the shinsoo in the air around him, drawing it into his skin, and converting it into heat. It was a very minor skill, but it was as far as he had gotten.

The training included a section on using shinsoo to strengthen the body, but heating was just as easy. And Jamoor gathered that he was at the front of the class in that; only the Blitz girl was better. As expected, given that Blitz was, if not a Great Family, then at least a notable one.

Gester broke the confused silence. "Okay, I give up. I don't know how we can figure out who's on whose team. But we could all exit the area, and then every team ends up with three points and we can get done with this stupid test."

There was some muttering among the group. Jamoor looked up at the instructor, floating in shinsoo high overhead. _She can hear what we're saying; she's not a Ranker for nothing._

"But, then, whoever was the last to leave could just stay inside, and win!" someone objected. More muttering.

Jamoor, warm for a moment, voiced his own solution. "We should all just treat this as a free-for-all.

The team with the last man standing will win, so everyone should try to be the last man standing."

"Or woman," interjected Quana.

"Do not _start_ with me, Blitz!"

She just stuck out her tongue. She looked warm as a… as a warm person. _Natural-born flame user indeed. Cold won't give her trouble._ He eyed her suspiciously. "Let's just do this thing, then."

A few of the weaker fishermen started to edge away, down the slope of the rocks. Gester, to his credit, stood his ground and summoned his crystalline sword from his arms inventory.

Jamoor took up his trusty axe and knife from seemingly empty air beside him. "Ladies first, miss."

She moved almost faster than he could react. Almost. She blurred towards him across the snow, but he blocked her fist with the wide flat of his knife. He didn't want to seriously injure her if he didn't have to. But he could see, in her sudden frown, that she knew he could have sliced her hand in half down the middle.

So she struck even faster, a flurry of blows such that Jamoor couldn't even consider counterattacking, only blocking and dodging away. _Well, damn. This might actually be hard._


	7. Competence

Talimmar threw himself forward in order to close with Loncar. He didn't know how strong the human was in close combat, but he probably wasn't stronger than Talimmar himself. And even Talimmar couldn't keep blocking those hurled knives forever. The arena was large enough that Loncar could keep his distance all day if Talimmar didn't close with him now.

Rather than trying to keep his distance, as Talimmar expected, Loncar dropped his held cleaver and pulled a pair of needles from his arms inventory. Thin and sharp, needles were very common weapons in the higher parts of the Tower, because they can be moved through dense shinsoo very easily. The needles Loncar held were red; they were probably the cheap standard model that was all the Workshop on this floor would sell.

Which meant that the human hadn't been using them for very long after all.

Talimmar opened with a sweep of his spear, but Loncar deftly leaped backwards out of range. The man rushed forward, seeking to attack Talimmar before he could recover from his swing. He was surprised; the man's agility was excellent.

He did not let surprise cripple him. Talimmar reversed his grip on the spear and brought the blunt end in front of him to block. A good hit, even without the blade, would still be enough to break a few of his opponent's bones.

He thrust the butt of the spear forward. Loncar halted and sidestepped the thrust, drawing one of his needles in towards his chest. Talimmar recalled from previous practices that he was preparing to thrust very quickly. _Good thing he can't use shinsoo yet, or he might have a chance._ Talimmar stepped backwards, out of range for Loncar's attack. As Loncar tried to regain his balance, he seemed to slip on the loose sand underfoot.

Talimmar used the space to reorient his spear in front of him. Loncar had barely recovered his footing; this was a clear opening.

Talimmar drove his spear forward at the belly of his stumbling opponent. Suddenly completely on balance, Loncar dodged around it, and pushed the spear away with his offhand needle. The other, he stabbed towards Talimmar's torso. With weapons as light as needles, he was too fast for Talimmar to dodge.

The cheap weapon struck Talimmar's scales, penetrated perhaps an inch through the tough hide, stuck, and shattered. Talimmar winced, mostly out of shock rather than pain. Loncar was left staring at the broken half of a weapon still in his hand, a few drops of dark blood staining the end.

"A good trick, human. But I am too strong for tricks," he snarled, "and I will kill you." Surprise had angered him, but as the shock faded, the words echoed in his mind, and Talimmar paused. Loncar scrambled away while he had the chance.

It was obvious. It was _obvious_, so painfully obvious that no one would ever think of it. _Kill them._ If there were only four Spear Bearers left alive at the end of the month, then those four would be the ones to pass. Talimmar was nearly certain to pass, of course… but he would not be able to scale the Tower if he passed up opportunities as easy as this. That laziness was the domain of the weak.

And this way, he could choose the others to pass. He could ensure that he would have the strongest teammates.

He eyed Galaver, now crouched atop the marble pillar. Of course, there were those who would not think of it. They were strong, but still too human to see the obvious path. The question was, who did want to pass…

_This guy is ridiculous!_

Quana dodged another swipe of Jamoor's axe. He was too fast for her to get through his defenses, but he still managed to find time to take a swing or two at her.

Most of the other fishermen were crouching well outside the area of the fight. They were still hesitant to fight others who might be on their team. Gester, poor guy, he looked like he wanted to help, but just couldn't find an opening.

Quana sighed mentally; Jamoor was right, in a way, about treating the test as a free-for-all, but she still felt like there should be a solution. She had expected this fight to be _much_ easier than it was turning out to be. Maybe watching during training didn't always reveal all of a person's skills. And he was_ strong_.

Faster than lightning, she threw her fist toward his arm, aiming to disable it. All she hit was the unyielding metal of the side of his knife. It was like he was trying to avoid hurting her! Condescending bastard. Who did he think he was?

She spun, following the punch with a kick, but he caught that on his forearm easily enough. When she entered the Tower, Quana had never expected that she might be fighting someone like this so soon.

But she _had_ fought like this. A duel against someone you could not hit no matter how hard you tried… was any duel against a Ranker. Quana had fought a certain Ranker many times. And this man… was no Ranker. There _were_ holes in his defense.

Probably. Somewhere.

A buzz of static from her pocket caused her to break off the assault. Jamoor also paused, perhaps because he was also surprised by this development.

The pocket transmitted a gravelly voice. "Blitz. Red human girl. Answer me."

"Talimmar? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."

"Ah, you are still in your test? Good. A certain idea occurred to me, a way in which we can ensure that those we favor will pass these tests. I believe that you are enough of a warrior to grasp the usefulness of such a thing. Am I right?"

Quana glanced at Jamoor; his face was unreadable. Though his eyes had gotten progressively more narrowed as Talimmar spoke. There was probably no way she could get him to leave. And, frankly, she was dubious that Talimmar had come up with anything that special; she and Oberon had brainstormed ways to cheat for the past two weeks, but they hadn't come up with much.

"Yeah, sure. Tell me the secret."

"A set number of Regulars for each position will be selected. Pick who you want to pass, for the fishermen, and kill all the rest. I trust you will be strong enough to do so."

"Wait, Talimmar, you can't just—"

"My opponent rises. Goodbye."

"No, I think I misheard you…" The pocket signaled that the call had ended.

Very slowly, so as to avoid making any sudden or frightening movements, Quana turned her head to look at Jamoor. Their eyes met, and there was tension.

"I _told _you. I _told_ you he would start _killing_ and you didn't _believe_ me_!"_ yelled Jamoor.

"This is some kind of mistake. There's no way anyone could—"

"He's not human, Blitz!"

Quana stamped her foot. "Lots of people aren't human! Think about what you're saying!"

"I have! For _years_! Listen to me: he's not human, so don't make assumptions about what his morals are! The dractaur tribes don't teach compassion for humans, they're only raised to care about other lizards. Do you think that caring for human lives is _innate_?"

"Of course I think that!"

Jamoor's anger seemed to dampen slightly into sadness. But, he got over it. "Well, listen, little girl, you need to throw out all of your assumptions right now. People— wait, didn't _you_ kill a few in the first test?"

"Yes! But…" Quana could feel that she grasping for an excuse, but couldn't allow herself to think that, for some reason her brain wouldn't let her finish that though inside her head, "they were trying to kill me first!" A few more moments passed before she processed the rest of Jamoor's statement. "And I'm, like, a hundred years old! I look as old as you!"

He settled down slightly. "You don't think like it, little girl. But, that's as good an excuse as you'll ever get. However, for someone like your lizard friend, human lives have no value. It's just… in their nature. And that's why they have to be stopped! Tell your knight friend to kill it before it hurts anyone else!"

"You are doing the _same thing _that Talimmar is!" Although Quana did instruct her pocket to connect to Galaver. "Just hold on."

As the call connected, the sounds of clashing weapons and grunting echoed through. Quana raised her voice somewhat.

"Galaver, sorry, I know you're in a test. I think Talimmar might be planning to kill some of the other Regulars. Would you… stop him for me?"

"What!? He… I… uh…" said Galaver. "He's going to have a hard time with that for now, at least, given his current opponent. But if he does try something like that, you can bet I'll be in the way. Thanks, Quana."

"No problem."

"Yeah. Hey, I'm kinda busy over here right now, so could you warn Coral and Neomi about this kind of thing for me? And don't forget, oh, Oberon. And Gester's there with you too, right?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"Just, don't let that skinhead Jamoor hear about this. From what you've told me about him, we'll be lucky if he didn't come up with something like this on his own. Thanks." The pocket clicked off.

Quana could feel a stare drilling into her back. She turned slowly, a smile hastily thrown across her face. "Ha. Haha, you know that Galaver, always misunderstanding things. I've said such nice things about you, too! Well, once you get past the serial killer face and _oof!"_

Quana fell to the ground, clutching her stomach. It felt like she'd been hit by a freight train in the gut; at least he had dropped his weapons first. _How kind._

With Quana finally down, Jamoor activated his pocket. He _would_ minimize the damage this day, even if certain people did not expect it.

Oberon was well hidden in his tree, verily invisible in the shadows. It had been quiet for some time now; he had received no signals from the advance group, and had encountered no trouble here. Just sitting peacefully in his tree, watching the flag's hiding spot. Nothing to see here.

Beside him, his pocket buzzed. An unexpectedly masculine voice spoke his name.

"Yes, it's me… Who are you?"

"Jamoor. We've met."

'Ah. Yes. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"It has been brought to my attention that some Regulars may be taking advantage of the tests in order to off their competition. I wanted to warn you."

"You mean, other than you and your creeper teammates?"

"Please. I would not kill anyone for such a small advantage. Actually, my teammates are some of the ones I am worried about doing the killing," admitted Jamoor.

"Why'd you join them, then?"

"Why do you think? They were there. Just be alert."

"Sure, but everything is calm and pleasant over here. No trouble to report, offissah. Say, shouldn't you be fighting Quana right about now? She's going to kick your ass, man."

"Actually, this test is about to end." _Click._

_Ah… it's probably fine. Heck, they were probably on a team or something, that's the reason their test ended so fast. This test, though… the forest is too big. Nothing happens._

Oberon leaned back against the great tree. As he rested his head against it, he felt an_ extremely _slightwhirr from beside his head. He turned his head and beheld, hovering energetically in the air beside him, watching him oh-so-intently, a fist-sized metal sphere. Like a pocket but smaller. _An Observer._

_ Well, eel slime._ Observers were tools used by Scouts in order to spy on enemies. They could also do things like making holograms, but that was beyond anyone's current skill in the training. The fact that one was watching him… The enemy knew where he was.

Oberon scrambled frantically to his feet and took off along the branches, at such a speed that the thousands of leaves became little more than a blur. The observer buzzed like a wasp in pursuit.

Loncar and Talimmar were fighting some distance away; Galaver watched as closely as he could. Still, the back and forth between the two of them was incredibly hard to track.

Galaver knew from personal experience how strong Talimmar was; they had sparred several times in practice. He was fast, too, but it was obvious than Loncar's agility greatly outstripped his opponent's. Sprays of sand were flying out in the wake of his rushing feet, making it difficult to watch. Compared to the pair Galaver had just fought off in defending his position on the pillar, those two were on a completely different level.

He glanced at his pocket; thirty seconds or so until the test would end. He could afford to relax a little now, because there was no way Talimmar would be able to finish off Loncar in that time. And Loncar wouldn't be able to drop Talimmar, those scales had already shattered one weapon of his. Everyone would walk off the field alive, today.

By all rights, Loncar should have been sprinting over here to knock Galaver off the pillar, but maybe he was simply to absorbed in the fight to think about victory. No matter. All the other teams had either gotten dropped or given up, so those two just had to keep fighting until the end.

A roar dragged him back into focus on the fight. Talimmar was engaging in a ferocious offensive, his spear swinging in every direction. It was a wonder that Loncar managed to stay unharmed. Well, Galaver wanted it that way, so it was good.

Talimmar raised his spear overhead, and brought it crashing down like a hammer. Loncar positioned his needle and prepared to counter; if he could parry the spear in the correct direction, he could leave Talimmar vulnerable. It was clear that Talimmar was relying on his strength to prevent this, pure and simple.

The spear struck the needle across its side. It shuddered, the clash rang out, but Loncar held his ground. The spear was deflected to the side. But in that moment, for that precious second out of all of the time he had been fighting so far, he was standing still.

A simple red spear crashed into him like a thunderbolt, and through him, until it buried itself in the sand after flying most of the way across the arena. Loncar stumbled backwards, and sank to his knees. His blood combined with the dust already staining his white coat.

Galaver turned his head to see the thrower of the spear. Alan sat down and leaned his head against the wall of the arena, where he had been waiting all this time. Waiting for an opportunity to help his team, like any good Regular.

Galaver silently cursed himself for foolishness. He had been so distracted with the showy fight in front of them, that he had forgotten about the players in the wings. This was a spear bearer test, after all; melee fights were supposed to be for fishermen.

"You idiot! We were so close! The test was about to end!"

Alan gave him a look of surprise and a shrug, as if to say, "What do you want from me?" He seemed proud of himself.

The mantra of the administrators ran through his mind: _Deaths during tests are inevitable._ Galaver stored his sword back in his arms inventory, and he recalled also the only mantra that allowed him to stay his hand against those administrators, for a time: _When I also have stood on top of the Tower, I will bring you justice. _

The buzzer buzzed, the announcer announced, and today the test was over. A certain list should have grown in length by one as well, but Galaver doubted very much that anyone was keeping track.


End file.
